


Dancing with the Devil

by gerti



Category: Hataraku Maou-Sama! | The Devil Is a Part-Timer!
Genre: Clothed Sex, Don't worry Maou arms grow back, F/M, Grinding, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 01:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3338384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerti/pseuds/gerti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a hero without a villain? Happier, for one. In which Emilia and Maou work out their differences through violence, and things only escalate from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so angry at this anime here's my favorites kicking each other's asses and getting down and dirty.
> 
> Warning for gratuitous self-indulgent smut in the second half.

He was a three hundred year old Demon King with enough raw power to shatter the world and an army which had almost done just that. She was an eighteen year old human with a holy sword.

Their battle went about as well as could be expected.

He grit his teeth in pain, clutching the bloody stump where his arm used to be. He didn't know where his absent limb had ended up, to take his eyes off his opponent long enough to spot it would only ensure his swift demise. 

Magic poured through his body, weighing down the air around him with its mere presence. His attempt to craft it into a spell was immediately cut off as the thin blade of the Better Half came dangerously close to disemboweling him.

His barriers and armor had proven useless against the holy sword, the sheer condensed Celestial Force of the blade carving through his most stalwart defenses like paper. It was all he could do to dodge her strikes, and even then it had still left its mark across his body in a series of bloody gashes.

It was just like back then, the lone hero who had invaded his castle to face him head on. The angelic child who had nearly defeated him once at the peak of his power, and was now poised to do so again.

A grin stretched across his lips, euphoria flushing his cheeks and cutting through the pain and terror that had filled him before. He'd been human for so long he'd forgotten that the blood in his veins was tainted with death and destruction. The simple honest pleasure of a job and a place in society, could it even  _begin_  to compare to the thrill of mortal combat?

His form shimmered out of existence, leaving the Hero's blade to cut through naught but air as he reappeared behind her. His foot came down with a satisfying  _crunch_  that sent her plummeting to the dry earth below, cratering the ground with enough force that had there been anyone within a mile of them they would have thought an earthquake had struck.

When the dust finally cleared she had already regained her feet, her helm knocked from her head and her silver hair blowing free in the wind. Blood poured down her face from a cut across her forehead, and from the way she moved it was clear that one of her legs wasn't working as it should have.

But still she stood, unbowed, unbroken, sword in hand and staring up at him with a burning passion in her green eyes.

He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

His grin only widened as he met her gaze, bringing his remaining hand to his empty shoulder to cauterize the wound with a flash of searing light. It hurt, it hurt so bad that he almost sobbed at the agony of it, but he refused to go to his death with so pitiful a sound.

So he howled out instead, palm still alight with burning power as he blurred down through the air towards her, accelerating faster and faster until he broke through the sound barrier with a thunderous crack. She bent her knees and raised her sword, turning his strike to the side as she twirled around his descending form. Holy fire seared across his back but he ignored the scent of burning flesh, wings of purest darkness bursting from his skin to strike out. The pained cry he heard in response brought a moment of clarity, and with  _that_  came a plan.

He could feel her power drawing further away, his strike having launched her out of range. It would take her several precious seconds to overcome the momentum of his blow.

That was an opening.

Again power flooded his body, he would only have enough time for a single spell. Nothing fancy, but it could be enough to turn the tide of this battle in his favor. A barrier was out of the question, nothing he could produce had even slowed her down thus far. Illusions wouldn't help him here, she would see through anything he might try to produce to distract her.

He needed something powerful, but simple enough to manifest in the few moments he had. Something that could counter her speed and her blade.

Something…  _poignant_.

The sword formed in his hand almost before he consciously decided on his course, a massive blade that thrummed with bloodlust as it coalesced. It was a weapon he had saved her with once, not that it mattered to either of them now. All that mattered was that now he had something solid to put between himself and her sword.

He turned the moment the hilt had settled in his grip, whirling about with a deep battle cry to meet the Hero that was already bearing down on him from behind. He was almost too slow, even knowing the extent of her power his eyes widened at the bare inches that separated the two of them, their swords shrieking against each other in a shower of sparks. There was a lull, barely a second long, and their eyes met from across their locked blades.

"Don't think a sword will save you, Satan." The confidence in her voice raised his hackles, and he growled as he pushed her back with all his strength. She landed gracefully some meters away, sword at her side but no less ready to strike.

"You seem to think yours will save you,  _Emi_." He didn't know why he used her assumed name and not her full one, but the narrowing of her eyes as he spoke proved it had caused  _some_  reaction. Not hesitance, nor guilt at her actions, but there was a spark in her eye that had not been present before. Something he couldn't quite recognize.

His blood boiled in his veins, screaming at him to attack. So he steadied his feet against the ground and obliged it, his massive blade outstretched in the one hand he had left. Unwieldy as the blade was he swung it like a toy, more than capable of fighting despite his handicap.

They clashed again and again, the sheer mass of his blade smashing through any defense she might have put up and forcing her on the defensive this time. He pushed his battered body to the limit, muscles aching from exertion as he chased her across the plains and back, unable to land more than a glancing blow. No matter the trick or technique he employed she danced around his sword with utmost grace, turning it aside with her own. Fast as he was she was just too agile to hit, though in return any strike she made at him was easily stopped by the width of his blade.

It was a stalemate, though he was worse off for it. Missing an arm and bleeding from too many wounds to count he knew that he couldn't win a battle of attrition.

It was time to finish this once and for all.

Again his power suffused his being, and though he could feel the sting of her blade a dozen times across his skin as his concentration split, he refused to let it cease. The ground trembled around them and the very air ignited at the sheer volume of magical energy radiating from his body. He lunged, crying out as he poured every last drop of that power into his blade to turn it into a crescent of malevolent power that blotted out the sky.

Swinging down towards his foe, everything in the path of his blade was annihilated.

Earth and sky were rent asunder, screeching as if in pain as the abomination that was his power tore through reality itself. For a moment, the barest instant, he thought it might even be enough. There was no way anyone, even the fabled Hero herself, could withstand the full extent of his might.

Once again he was proven wrong.

A single point of light appeared before him, outshining even the power he had unleashed. He could only stare, mesmerized by the holy force that cut a path through his attack and blinded him with its radiance. His blade shattered in his hands, and though he couldn't see or feel it he could imagine well enough what it looked like when the Better Half buried itself to the hilt in his chest. He fell back beneath the weight of the Hero and her armored form, his body hitting the earth with a heavy thud.

And then, there was only darkness.

.

..

...

That he woke up at all was the first surprise, one of many soon to come.

He blinked blearily at the blue sky overhead, his entire body throbbing with pain and more than a little confusion.

How long had he been laying here? Was the hero- Was  _Emi_  still trying to kill him? Or had she been killed in the blast of their clashing attacks?

The sound of boots crunching against the earth answered one of those questions.

"Please be Alciel,  _please_  be Alciel…" He glanced to the side, squinting in the bright light at whoever was approaching him.

It was Emilia, her armor dented, bloodied, and outright mangled in some places. She walked with a noticeable limp, but despite that she continued to approach him, sword clenched tightly in her hand until she stood over his prone form. The tip of her blade pressed lightly to his neck, resting there as she stared down at him in silent judgement.

"Why is it never Alciel when I  _want_  him to show up?" He groaned pitifully, practically pouting despite the dire situation he was currently in. He could go a hundred yen over budget and his over-protective general would be there in seconds, but when he was being attacked out of the blue by the god-damned hero he was nowhere to be found.

She didn't respond to him, not even a quirk of her lips to signal she'd heard a word out of his mouth. She just. Kept.  _Staring_  with that unreadable expression on her face. It was really starting to creep him out, as was the fact that he wasn't, you know, dead.

"But I guess… I guess I'm glad it's you, at least." He let his head rest against the ground softly, his eyes fluttering closed and a small, content smile pulling at his lips. His body ached with pain. The loss of an arm and so much blood, as well as the use of every bit of his power had left him drained. But he couldn't help the tiniest bit of satisfaction, this was a fitting end for the great Demon King. "If it was anyone else I might be mad, but you… you deserve this."

Whatever he'd said, it must have finally gotten through to her. He felt her body tensing through the tip of her blade, and he readied himself for his imminent end.

The second surprise came when instead of removing his head from his shoulders, the blade sunk into the earth by his head, staying upright even when her hand left the hilt.

" _Shut. Up._ " Her voice was terse, grit out through clenched teeth as she quite abruptly dropped none too gently on top of him, straddling his waist. He let out a grunt of pain as he stared up at her in confusion.

"Wha-?" She cut him off by roughly grabbing the frayed collar of his shirt, pulling him upwards to a seated position.

"I said shut up." She shook him with each word, and it was all he could do to keep his lunch down and listen. "You despicable, amoral, malicious, evil piece of  _trash_!"

He kept his mouth shut, though he rolled his eyes internally at the lackluster description of him. She must be as off her game as he was if she was resorting to such base name calling, maybe the loss of blood was starting to affect her as well.

It was only belatedly that he realized she had stopped again, and that she was staring intensely at him from no less than a foot away. Just like him she had reverted back to her human appearance at some point, and for the second time he was struck speechless at the sight of her. Perhaps to a human man the blood splattering her and the fact that she had almost killed him not ten minutes before would be something of a turn-off, but to a demon… Well. He was lucky the pain was keeping his arousal in check.

"I can't  _believe_ \- With the  _Devil_  of all-  _God_  I'm an idiot." She mumbled, lowering her head for a moment and taking a slow, deep breath.

For the third surprise she kissed him. It was a stilted, awkward thing, not at all what he'd dreamed about on the rare, rare occasion when he had permitted himself to consider it. She tasted like blood, his or hers he couldn't tell, and when her lips parted and her tongue brushed against his mouth he gave up any attempt to make sense of the situation.

It was clear that for all her experience with the sword, this was possibly her first time kissing. Not that he was any kind of expert, that sort of thing was for incubi after all, but he'd had his experience. After three hundred years it would be sadder if this was still his first kiss. His remaining hand slid up her leg to rest on her waist, causing her to clench her fists tighter at his collar. It was a warning, clearly, but they were both too far gone for it to progress much further than that.

Neither of them wanted to stop, not when it had escalated this far.

She pulled back from his lips some time later, a thin string of saliva connecting them as she panted softly, her forehead resting against his. She refused to meet his gaze, but he could see that her face was nearly as red as her hair at this point. Her grip had softened by now, turning from a method of trapping him into something more tentative and ephemeral.

"It's done." The anger had drained from her, all of her seething rage turning into what looked like resignation. At what he couldn't tell, but he felt like he should be offended all the same. "I can't- I don't know if I'll ever forgive you, but I just can't  _hate_  you anymore."

She tensed atop him without warning, her lips parting in a soft gasp that bypassed his ears in favor of traveling somewhere much lower and much more dangerous. With her body pressed so close to his his reaction was inevitable, it was only her reaction that was uncertain at this point.

Maou was betting on finally getting decapitated, it was the only thing that would bring back the natural order in this crazy world he'd found himself in.

She moved her hips tentatively, her movements jerky and inexperienced but more than welcome all the same. He could feel the heat between her legs as it bled through what little remained of his pants, and he was certain that she could feel the hard length of him pressing up against her center. A breathy moan escaped her lips as she ground against him, one she immediately fought back, clenching her teeth and trying her best to glare at him. It lost most of its effect when her cheeks were flushed red and she hadn't stopped rocking her hips against him.

He wasn't unaffected by her actions however, and for every moan and muffled whimper she made he had a low groan of his own to match it. Were he in any condition to do so he would have turned this situation around already, and every instinct in his body was indeed urging him to pin her down and ravage her to his heart's content. He was only remaining upright by the grace of some eldritch god though, and with one arm it wasn't like he could overpower her. He hadn't even managed that with both arms. He could reciprocate though, and reciprocate he did, his one arm wrapping tightly around her waist and a growl escaping him as he dragged her forward against him. She made something suspiciously like an 'eep', but before he could register he'd already rolled his hips against her, grinding up between her legs purposefully and turning whatever noise she'd made into a gasping moan.

Once he'd heard that, there was no stopping. Again and again he lifted his hips up to grind against her, and her grip on his shirt changed once more as she held onto him for dear life. Drowning as she was in this new and unknown pleasure, it came as a surprise when she captured his lips messily once more. Emilia the Hero was full of surprises it seemed, he would be hard pressed to underestimate her after this.

But such thoughts could wait, all that mattered right now was her warm, trembling body against him, each desperate thrust of his hips matched as she rolled her own down towards him. On instinct his hand began to explore her body, sliding across smooth skin and over the taut muscles that lay beneath. She was a perfectly crafted warrior, difficult as it sometimes was to reconcile when one could only see Emi Yusa the customer service operator. Emilia the Hero though, she was a work of art. He drank in the soft curve of her rear, groping blindly and relishing the way she squeaked at his touch.

She hadn't stopped him though, and so his journey continued. His hand slid up along the curve of her spine, fingers making the barest of contact with her skin as they trailed around her side. Her shirt was already in tatters from the stress of their battle, hanging open to reveal an equally battered, but miraculously still intact, bra beneath. Not that he could see it from his position, but he could feel it as his fingers traced the edge of the fabric.

Her grip tightened in warning and he froze with bated breath, waiting for her reaction. She swallowed audibly, the only other sound their quickened breaths in the still air.

"Alright… Alright." She muttered to herself, still refusing to meet his patient gaze as she took a slow, steadying breath. Then she nodded once.

Permission thus granted he slipped his hand upwards beneath the fabric of her bra, palming her modest breast. Encouraged by her subtle intake of breath he continued his exploration, fingers teasing around and across her pert nipple. She shuddered at his touch, fingers clenching and unclenching at his collar as her hips began to move once more.

It took much longer than it should have, and even then it came as a surprise when Emi tensed on top of him. Her movements were jerky and unsure, and her back arched into his touch uncharacteristically as she let out a soft whimper of pleasure. The scent of her arousal spiked noticeably to his still-acute sense of smell, and he could feel her wetness soaking through his underwear. In response he simply lifted his hips once more, drawing another delicious, gasping moan from her lips and causing her knees to squeeze tightly around him.

His arm circled her waist, holding her firmly against his body as he ground his hips against her needily. There was no time to strip, to hesitate even long enough to remove the few flimsy obstacles between his throbbing hardness and her wet warmth would mean to let the pleasure shivering up his spine stop for even a moment. And that was just not happening.

When he finally reached his peak he was far from subtle, his sticky seed soaking into the already damp fabric of his boxers and his teeth sinking into her lip hard enough that he could taste fresh blood in his mouth. Much to his delight she didn't shy away from the pain, pulling her mouth from his she shoved him back onto the ground as she panted above him. Her hips rolled once more, driving her core down against him as she leaned forward to lay down atop him. Her face was hidden by the crook of his neck even as her body trembled with a second release.

And then it was over. They simply lay there basking in the afterglow, neither of them willing to move from the place they had ended up in. And though there were many questions that could be asked, neither of them wanted to be the first to break the comfortable silence that had descended on them.

Though when Alciel found them, still lazing there with disheveled clothes and reeking of sex, some twenty minutes later he was more than happy to do it for them.

**Author's Note:**

> If only if only.
> 
> Maybe I'll write something about my favorite demon general housewife next.


End file.
